By then he certainly was sad a lot of the time, I now know from reading KURT VONNEGUT: LETTERS (Delacorte, $35), splendidly assembled and edited by Dan Wakefield.
Sad that his stereotypical midlife abandonment of a pre-fame life (Cape Cod, wife of 25 years, Saab) for a fab new lifestyle (Manhattan, woman 17 years younger, a Mercedes) hadn’t turned out swell.
Sad that by his own estimation he’d already written his best books, and that two of the last three were subpar. Sad to discover that the blues were his lot; at one point, a bit later in life, he would attempt suicide. Even at the peak of stardom, four years post-“Slaughterhouse-Five,” he wrote to his former student Gail Godwin that the “past four years have been mean buggers for me.”
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